


Out of Your Misery

by platinumtrickster



Series: See You in Another Life [1]
Category: Mother 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Claus is Alive, Gen, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25021603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinumtrickster/pseuds/platinumtrickster
Summary: Things haven't been easy since Claus came home.(Post-Mother 3.  Claus is alive AU.)
Series: See You in Another Life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812517
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Out of Your Misery

His shouting makes the house tremble sometimes. It wasn’t built to withstand noise, to house it within its walls at all, so each time he starts raising his voice, it bounces unnaturally off of the wooden walls and splits the house with those loud shrieks almost in two. Lucas covers his ears to block out the sound, but that accomplishes so little because it doesn’t block out the noise at all. Loud and shrill and awful, unpleasant, he screams more and more each day without fail as if living isn’t worth it without it, like he won’t exist anymore if he can’t make himself heard.

The sound is overwhelming and Lucas crouches, hands still pressed uselessly against his ears and grits his teeth and seems to shake alongside the house in solidarity. The scream briefly cuts out when noticing this, then resumes again at him to stop it, stop it, _stop it_ and get up. Most of what the voice says is near-incomprehensible with the ringing in Flint’s ears anyhow. He silently receives each howling word and absorbs it unlike his son, but none of it makes sense at all. Maybe understanding it doesn’t even really matter at this point. It’s all the same.

“I’ll do it this time, I swear I will,” he screams. Just the same as every other time. It’s always going to be this time for sure. I will, I will, I will… and they can’t take it any less seriously with each passing time. Of course he’ll end up doing it. Of course he will if they don’t watch him and don’t try and talk him through this every time. That threat’s not empty even when he’s too scared and riled up to try it for certain. He’s started to notice them hiding everything sharp in the house from him, and that makes it worse because they’re making it harder but shouldn’t they _trust_ him? Hasn’t he earned that?

Flint is barely even conscious of those meltdowns because they’re all beginning to melt together into one soul-crushing memory. All that changes is where they’re standing, if Lucas is home, if Flint walks in on it mid-threat or watches it boil over from the start, but the words blur even when he tries to piece them back together. Each time it happens, though, it’s like a knife swiftly lodging itself in his heart. He can’t stand it, but words fail him and so do actions and so all they manage is to keep him from trying for one more day, one more moment before he’ll break down again.

He’s quick to turn himself away from Flint and Lucas and to start rifling through every drawer, every nook and cranny for something sharp to bargain with. Flint’s frozen, lethargic limbs only start working when his son finds the homemade knife underneath his mattress. A hand is outstretched so he can start begging him to put it down, set it aside and let them all just _talk_ about this. Lucas’ own attention is renewed by that quiet, cracked voice trying to reason with his twin, even if he’s still trying to protect his hearing. Draws himself to his feet and they both start to corner him in the corner of the house dedicated to the bedroom.

“Stop! Stop, I’ll–” He turns the knife to press its blade against his neck. The blood in Flint’s ears start to roar.

Lucas is pleading. “Just think about this, _please_ –”

“Just let me do it! _Just let me_ , you’ll be happier–” His words are cut through by his own hyperventilating and his hands start to tremble violently but his grip stays true and his aim still pointed at himself, the blade pushing a little more insistently into his skin, but not cutting in just yet. “You’ll be happier without me. Just let me…” His face twists to a straining frown, choking back tears and holding hostage the sobs in his throat. His body shudders as in anticipation of his emotion that he won’t allow to come out. “Please. I’m so tired of this. I- I - I’m so _t_ …”

“God _damn_ it, Claus, no!” Flint’s voice is hoarse and his emotions are barely restrained. It’s a mix of frustration, sadness, and anger that finally breaks through his usually subdued facade he uses to calm Claus down. It’s the loudest he’s been in years and his voice is an authority that suddenly draws everything to deathly silence. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not lettin’ you go! I just got you back! I can’t take losin’ you _again_ after I looked and I looked. I can’t take it no more– I dunno how to help you, but I _promise_ I will. Swear on my _life_ , Claus.”

Claus is shrinking away from the loudness of his father’s voice, dragging himself backwards till he’s pressed against the walls. The knife is finally pointed away, but held up vertically to his chest tight. He hugs himself with that knife and he seems to appear so much smaller than usual, deflated and scared and so, so young still. Flint starts to move towards his son, but Claus fumbles with the knife in his hands again, forcing the elder to stop dead in his tracks. There’s a several foot gap between them already, but it’s not enough for Claus. It’s still so suffocating.

It takes a few moments for anger to finally start to fill Claus amidst his already overflowing grief. He’s crying when he speaks, unable to keep himself contained anymore and through shallow, hiccuping breaths, he renews his screams to fill the house with ringing again. “She shouldn’t’a brought me back. I didn’t wanna come back. If she’d’a just let me be dead then you wouldn’t hafta say goodbye again and you wouldn’t have to be mad when I do it–”

“I’m not mad, Claus.” Flint shakes his head, eyes glossed over with tears, jaw trembling. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Yes you are,” Claus sobs. “You hate me. You’ll be better off without me…”

Tears are streaming down Claus’ face with no sign of stopping. He’s wracked with shuddering sobs till he starts to sink down, propped up by the wall. He holds the homemade knife against the floor, the other hand brought up to wipe the tears off of his freckled face. Flint and Lucas exchange quick glances. Both of them are crying now, too, but any of their emotion is muted by the flood of grief that comes from Claus. It finally feels like the right opportunity to approach, and Flint takes slow steps towards his son, followed by Lucas. Claus doesn’t stop his sobbing and doesn’t stop them this time, either.

It feels like eons before they reach Claus, and the two kneel down before the ginger. Lucas is the one to gently slide the knife out of Claus’ hand, and he does not object. Flint brushes stray hairs out of his son’s eyes and cups his face with rough, calloused hands before pressing a kiss to his forehead and his eyes. Then he finally pulls Claus into the tightest hug, a hand placed on the back of Claus’ head and the other wrapped around his torso. It takes a few moments, but Claus finally reciprocates and throws his arms around Flint too, burying his face into Flint’s shoulder.

Flint softly hums a “shhh,” to his son the more he cries as he gently rocks the both of them. Lucas joins the hug, too, filling up the space on Claus’ other side’. And they all just stay there in big embrace, a complete family, trying to comfort each other all at the same time.

“I hate myself,” Claus whimpers into Flint’s shoulder.

“I know. But _we_ love you. Please don’t ever forget that.” A soft, long sigh from Flint. “Nothing is ever gon’ change that, Claus.”

“We’ll always be here for you,” Lucas adds with a shaken gentleness. “Promise.”

Claus sniffles. “Okay…”

They know that’s the best they’ll get for a long time, but that’s a victory. They still have him with them. Claus isn’t any more fixed than he was earlier today, but Flint hopes to God he knows how much they love him, truly. That’s all he has to offer.

It has to be enough, somehow.

Please, let it be enough.


End file.
